


Merlins flight

by AppleOfEris



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Dragon Merlin (Merlin), Evil Uther Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Post-Magic Reveal, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 09:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleOfEris/pseuds/AppleOfEris
Summary: Merlin aimed the dagger at Uthers back, knowing that nothing short of a miracle could dissuade him from this bitter revenge."Merlin?" a voice that sounds achingly familiar shatters the silence, and Merlins reality along with it.A modern au where a powerful Merlin is out for revenge when a miricle (aka Arthur) stops him in his steps





	1. Chapter 1

I stalk through the corridor, the soft soles of my shoes beating marginally louder than the pounding of my heart. I round a corner and stop when I see two more security guards, both stationed on either side of the door to King Uther Pendragon’s office. My magic sweeps over them, checking that neither hold any surprises. Just like the six other guards I’ve taken down tonight, this pair is only equipped with an electric tazer , a gun, and not a drop of the magic they would need to actually stand a chance against me. Not that I’m surprised; there hasn’t been a magic user loyal to the royal throne since 2025, when the purges started.

It barely takes a tendril of magic to find and censor the stimuli to their somatosensory cortex, the part of the brain responsible for processing visual and auditory information from their sensory organs. I am essentially non-existent to them now, and I can literally walk right past them. I hesitate with my hand on the door, and my stomach aches from the unpleasant mixture of terror, guilt and euphoria I’m currently subject to. I spend a moment trying to imagine what my father would do faced with the same choice. Instead of his ancient eyes and smiling face, the only thing I can picture is the burnt, bullet ridden, week old corpse they left behind . Along with that of my mother, and sister. My stomach heaves, and bile snakes up my throat, but the bitter images have been enough to strengthen my resolve.

I burst into the room, and summon a dagger into my had. Uthers eyes barely have a chance to widen before I access his cerebellum and put him to sleep. I may become a murder tonight, but at least my father would approve of how mercifully it shall be done. I regard his limp figure before me. It appears he was eating supper at his desk before I interrupted, as his face is now deeply wedged in a blob of mashed potatoes. I wonder if I should just be patient and wait for him to suffocate in them, instead of going through the process of bloodying my own hands. I contemplate it for only a second, before dismissing it. I want his assassination to be a public statement to all magic users, to prove that we don’t have to sit back and let bullshit happen to us. By slitting his throat I will show them that the road to freedom is a bloody one, but one they must be willing to take if ever they wish to sleep peacefully again.

I decide to waist no time on theatrics, or giving this monster the opportunity for final words. I stride forward purposefully, my footsteps ringing out like a bell marking the final moments of the kings life. I grab hold his lolling head, smeared with food that will never be eaten, and prepare to plunge the knife into his throat however many times it takes till I see his life force crawl from its carcass and depart to the fiery depth of hell. 

The door to Uthers office opens, shattering the moment. Realizing I have seconds left to complete the deed, I slam the knife down towards his throat… only to be knocked aside by a formidable weight. It restrains me for only seconds before my magic rears like a horse desperate to break free, and I let it fling the body off me and across the room. With a tug of magic, stone restrains leap from the marble floor itself and manacle him down. 

I move so quickly I can’t be sure I didn’t teleport, back to the monster I am determined to kill. I raise the knife once more, this time aimed at the small of his back, when a voice achingly familiar sends shivers down my spine. 

“Merlin?” it says, causing my magic to twirl in frantic circles across my skin. 

“My names not Merlin,” I say, my eyes unwilling to tear themselves from the target, the prize, the thing I have hunted and plotted against for the past year. 

“Merlin, please,” he says hoarsely, and finally I find the strength to look away from Uther and towards the man. 

What I see I cannot explain. 

It’s like the world explodes within my head, unlocking a thousand doors and crashing down a million walls. An entire life of knowledge, emotion, experience and awareness unfolds itself across my senses. In almost every memory, one thing remains prevalent and constant.

“Arthur,” I gasp breathlessly. Arthur; the sun I revolved around, the purpose of my magic, the king of my home… and the love of my life. 

I collapse weakly, the clang of my knees ringing a very different tune to the deathly tolling my footsteps that rung only moments earlier. 

“Your hurt,” I whisper, clamoring forward on shaking limbs to the spot where my magic still held him down. I hadn’t noticed during the tussle, but the dagger had sliced a jagged line across his belly. 

“It’s a flesh wound,” he assures me faintly, his wide eyes staring at me uncomprehendingly. I shake my head, as my mind becomes bombarded with memories of our final days, of him hot with infection and weak from blood loss. 

“It was my fault,” I say frantically unbuttoning his formal white top, now stained with blood. 

“It was my fault you died and how do I repay you? By stabbing you the next time I see you, somehow thousands of years in the future!” I exclaim maniacally. My magic swells and mounts around me like a thunderstorm growing in static electricity. 

I peel the shirt back to look at the wound, and my magic leaps forward, flooding the area with erythrocytes, lymphocytes and fresh epidermal layers of skin cells. Within seconds, there is no wound left to be seen, but somehow my own panic is only getting worse. 

“Arthur,” I sob, running my hands over his chest, up his neck and across his face. I feel frantic with the need to know he’s okay, that I didn’t hurt him anywhere else. 

“Merlin, I’m fine,” he tries to say soothingly, “If you could just release me…” 

“Shit, shit I’m sorry!” I gasp desperately, terrified that everything I’m doing is just making things worse. The stone restraints holding him down crumble, and I flinch, terrified of his reaction now that he’s gained mobility. 

Instead of any of the horrible things I had braced myself for, Arthur gathers my trembling form in his arms. 

“It’s not your fault,” his voice croaks, “None of it is. Everything you have done has always been for the benefit of others.” 

“Not everything,” I say, gesturing towards his unconscious father, “Not this. This was for me… f-for revenge.” I grasp Arthur’s shoulders and stare into his eyes, desperately willing him to understand. 

“He killed my family, Arthur. He murdered an innocent father, mother and daughter, because they were caught harboring two juvenile dragons and three dragon eggs. He killed them too… the last of the dragons. The only reason I survived was because I was away on a school trip. ”  
I take a shuddering breath, and try regain control of my magic, which is thrashing around the room and causing general destruction to the antique furniture, pottery and ornaments. 

“He had them gassed with iron monoxide while they slept, then sent in a squad with fire torches and iron bullets to finish them off. Even the dragons were too young and weak from years of captivity and small spaces to put up a fight. I have nothing left, Arthur, nothing but hatred for the monster who murdered them.” 

Arthur seems to be struggling to absorb everything I’ve said. 

“I never knew,” he sighs, “I mean in this life I didn’t catch on to what a monster he is because I’d never met a magical person. They were just faceless creatures of darkness and evil, that killed my mom. But if this life is anything like my last… I know who’s fault it really is for my mother’s death.” 

Arthur gently presses his tear streaked face against my shoulder, “You deserve your revenge Merlin, I just couldn’t bear to loose someone I’ve spent most of my life loving to someone I actually loved lifetimes ago. 

 

I blush as I realize how incriminating my words are. Back then, love wasn’t as important as convenience. Not that I didn’t love Gwen, it’s just… I gaze at Merlin, and know that the kind of love I had for him didn’t have a name back then, and certainly wasn’t the type you could get married from. 

It’s the 21st century now, and I’ve known I was gay not only since I was thirteen, but also for a couple thousand years before that, apparently. 

Merlin’s eyes suddenly blaze a fiery gold, and I can feel the magic shift in the air as though it is my own. It feels like millions of electrically charged hands tracing words across my skin and down my spine. 

“What are you doing?” I ask him, entirely confused by the new sensation. 

“Trying to get my magic back under control,” he says, clamoring unsteadily to his feet. 

“I’ve spent so long holding it back that I seem to have some trouble reigning it back in after I let it loose.” 

His eyes glow and the magic shifts again, the grating warmth and buzzing power feeling disconcertingly arousing. That can’t be good. I don’t remember his magic ever turning me in in our past lives, but then again I spent most of the time that I knew he was magic dying, so not exactly in the mood. 

I get up, and stand beside him. He’s taller, than I remember, and small things about him have changed, insignificant enough that I wouldn’t have noticed had I not studied his face better than mine in our past life. 

“I should go,” he says, glancing towards the slumbering King.   
“The longer I hold them under, the longer it will take them to shake it off,” 

“Then when will I see you again,” I ask hastily. 

Merlin shakes his head, looking weary, guilt ridden and haunted.  
“I just need some time to think, sort things out,” he says, and I surge forward and take hold of his arms. 

“Yes, but w-”

“Soon, if you still want see me,” he mutters sincerely, his blue gaze soft with tears yet sharp with emotion. In the next second, he disappears, leaving me grasping futilely at the space where he had been.


	2. Chapter 2

Fuck that was intense, I think as I appear back home. Of all the distractions from my vengeful pursuit that fate could have thrown at me, I’m glad it was this one. So glad the tears have yet to stop flowing and my magic to calm down. I feel Gwen’s life-force in the room across mine, and focus all my senses on the gentle ebb and flow of her energy. Eventually my magic sinks back into my skin, and I sigh with relief. I’m certainly more powerful than I remember being in my old life.  
A sudden sensation flashes across my mind, of floating in the abyss between life and death, learning and growing, in wait of the return of my other half. 

I sit down heavily on my bed, feeling as though my mind had been used as the test grounds of several nuclear warfare experiments. 

I take my time getting dressed into sleeping clothes, letting the events of the day sink in. Even after I switch off the light and curl up in my bed, it takes me at long time to fall asleep. I keep imagining Arthur resting beside me, like he often would on any sort of journey. Every few minutes I jolt awake, terrified that it was just a dream. 

 

Merlin leaves me with a mess to figure out. My dad is still unconscious, but stirring. I decide the best thing I can do is disappear before he wakes up. I pry the doors to his office open, and glance towards the security guards. When they fail to notice my presence, I move hastily towards my room, wanting to be out of sight by the time Merlins magic fades. 

As soon as I turn the corridor, I make a run for it, sprinting at full speed towards my room. I swing the door open, but take time to quietly press it shut behind me. My heart is pounding, and my ears ring as the adrenaline of the night slowly settles back down into my bones. 

“Shit,” I say softly, in attempt to articulate some of the shock and fear that curdle my blood.  
“Merlins alive… I’m alive… somehow, despite it being thousands of years since I died. ” I whisper to myself. 

A harsh memory of fear, pain, and eventually acceptance flashes before my eyes. I remember dying, how it felt to slip away to the sound of the lake of Avalon, and the feel of grass and mud against my fevered skin. I shiver at the memory of enveloping darkness, followed by nothing. Is that all that I have to look forward to when I die again in this body? I decide I don’t want to think about it. 

A blaring alarm rings out against the silence. I flinch, already knowing it’s purpose. A security guard bursts into my room, gun raised. 

“Hey!” I exclaim, quickly taking up the act of insolent rich kid.  
“What the fuck do you think your doing?” 

“There’s been an attack, sir. On your father,” 

“Is he alright?” I ask a bit too quickly, but the guard doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Yes, sir, the king is fine. It seems an intruder broke in by casting some sort of spell on the guards, to make themselves invisible.” The guard hesitates at this part of the story. 

“We’re still not sure what his intent was. We suspect he came to steal something, but the king has yet to notice anything missing.” 

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I know why the sorcerer was here… he was here to kill the king, my father, and topple the monarchy. 

 

I wake up with a pounding headache and the disconcerting feeling of being unsure what century it is. I open my eyes slowly, and take in the sight of my flat-screen TV mounted on the wall opposite to my bed. Definitely the 21st century, then. 

Beams of morning light drift lazily into my bedroom. Everything about this morning looks ordinary, despite the fact that just yesterday I had felt completely content with my spoiled life. Now I feel disgusted at the softness of my sheets, and the obvious wealth of my room. I don’t deserve it. 

Merlins face flashes before my eyes; his familiar features and alien expression. His eyes were dulled with so much pain and struggle even before his memories had returned to him. I shudder to think how he’s bearing the weight of his guilt and anger right now. Hopefully he’s not alone. 

I pull the silken sheets off my body and heave out of bed. It must be nearly nine, and I know the my tutor, Dr. Henderson, arrives at 10.

What a privileged life I’ve led up to now and never even realized I think, and my stomach aches. 

 

... 

Shit. I can’t focus. Mrs Whitwell is droning on about the significant different between polar molecules and polar bonds and I just can’t yank my mind back into the present. 

My brain is swarmed with ancient memories of castles that hide dragons in their dungeons… an old bed that had more lumps than smooth mattress … detached heads rolling away from their owners necks… the way Arthur’s went misty when he was lost in thought… 

There’s no room in my head for anything else. 

“Ethan, can I borrow a pencil please.” Andrews voice makes me jump. 

“Sure,” I say, fumbling around in my pencil case. Back in the present, Mrs. Whitwell has stopped talking. A glance at the board confirms that she’s set us work to do. 

Andrew sits at the desk next to mine. We’re sort of friends, enough that we greet each other each lesson but not enough to make plans outside school. I thought he was cute, and now I realize why. His blond hair, muscled figure and blue eyes bare an uncanny resemble to Arthur. 

I hand him the pencil and he thanks me. I smile, and turn back to stare blankly at the window, letting the memories wash over me again. 

My magic shifts uneasily as I recall Morgana, which causes my pencil to roll off my desk and my papers to rustle. I look down and prey no one saw. 

It’s been a long time since a magic user was publically called out. In Uthers early days, it happened across the country on a daily basis. People with magic would be shunned from their school, homes and workplaces due to the fear and hate of magicless people. There’s nothing worse then watching a fellow sorcerer be dragged away sobbing by a group of armed policeman, knowing you could help but too afraid to move. 

My cheeks burn in shame at the memory. The old Merlin wouldn’t have let an innocent person be taken to their death. Maybe it’s because in this life I had a family to protect, who would go down with me if I were caught. Maybe I’m just more selfish. 

I close my eyes and Arthur’s face stares back at me. I really want to see him, and confirm that he’s more than just a memory. I decide to visit him tonight. 

“Hey,” Andrew murmurs, nudging my arm, “You alive in there?” 

“Yeah,” I sigh heavily, “Just got a lot to think about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if u want another chapter and I will try make it happen😂

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if I should bother with a second chapter


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